


Venomous

by ParadoxMage



Series: Shorts [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Gen, Kinda Dark, Short, plot divergence, really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxMage/pseuds/ParadoxMage
Summary: What would have happened if Amélie was never brainwashed by Talon, but she still lost the person she loved most? A better question might be what happens when a person bends their entire being towards vengeance and is consumed by hatred?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second fanfic I've ever written, and the first completely original one. It's really short, but I was trying to write something dark and compelling without dragging it into a full sized story, and this was the result. 
> 
> Once again it's kind of dark, so if you aren't okay with that don't read it.

Two years.

 

Two years since the mission.

 

The last mission.

 

 _His_ last mission.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Amélie Lacroix. World renowned sniper. Famed Overwatch agent. Bane of the organization known as Talon.  


And a widower, whose pain is still fresh even after two years.

 

Two long, lonely years.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

The sound of her rifle brought yells of dismay from the throats of the arrayed Talon agents below. As man after man fell, Amélie smiled. Even after all this time, this was her only joy. Bringing death to those who had shattered her world and smashed her heart into infinitesimally small pieces.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

They called her the Widowmaker. She liked it, found it fitting. That was who she was now, the identity she had forged in the flames of her loss. The deadly assassin they had created.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Their fear of Gérard had made them blind. He had been closing in on them, closer and closer. They thought he was a threat. They thought that no one could be more dangerous than him. They thought that destroying their hunter would leave them free.

 

They never stopped to consider that someone infinitely more deadly would rise up to take his place, and wreak vengeance upon them.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Gérard had wanted her to stay away from Overwatch. He believed in their cause passionately, but was constantly worried about what would happen if his beloved wife ever saw combat. She had humored him, even though she hated not knowing if her husband would come home today, tomorrow or never.

 

It turns out that she had every right to think just that.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Her friends worried about her. They told her to rest, to go home.

 

Angela was the worst.

 

She lectured her constantly about the rigors of her forced training regimen. Multiple times she had Amélie forcibly confined to her home.

 

She eventually gave up after her third escape from the lockdown.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

10 kills. 20 kills. 50. 100. 200. More.

 

The numbers kept adding up.

 

Another bullet, another widow to share in her pain.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Amélie, please, answer me. You’re scaring me.” The blond doctor waved a hand in front of her friends face.

 

“What do you want?”

 

The other woman recoiled as the french sniper snapped at her.

“I’m worried about you damn it! You don’t eat, you don’t sleep. All you do is plot and take life after life.” She got no response, only a blank stare.

“Please… Ame… I want to help you.”

 

“I don’t need your help.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

The Widowmaker doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t need them.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

They looked for test subjects and she volunteered. They couldn’t do anything that was worse than the pain she lived with every day. If this worked though, that might be gone.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

She placed an icy blue hand against her chest, counting the seconds between the beats of her heart. As the minutes ticked by and she remained in that pose, she failed to feel shock or fear at the delay between the rhythmic pulses that once signaled blood flowing through her veins.

 

She failed to feel anything, and that was a blessing.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Frozen blue covering the terrain of her body, infecting her hair with a deep purple hue. A hint of gold shining coldly in the depths of her eyes. The mirror showed her a face that the world had never known. 

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Amélie Lacroix is dead.

 

The Widowmaker is all that’s left.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

One more bullet. The bone white mask dripping red from a perfectly circular bullet hole located between the masked figures eyes.

 

The Widowmaker smiled. No chance for him to disappear this time.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

With the death of their Reaper, Talon fell. The Widowmaker was there in the ensuing weeks, making sure nothing was left but a body count beyond measure.

 

How many was it now. How many bullets had found their mark. How many widowers. A thousand. Two. More. It was impossible to say. One for every piece of what had once been her heart.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Talon was dead, at long last.

 

She stuck around long enough to make sure that the organization was truly gone.

 

Then she disappeared.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Three days later they found her. Her beloved rifle was cradled in her arms, a single bullet hole passing through her right temple and out the other side of her skull, the perfectly formed slug lodged in the wall next to her.

 

Angela was the one who discovered her. She didn’t cry though. Didn’t mourn the loss of the person who had once been her best friend.

 

The woman lying on the ground in front of her had died long ago.

  


◇ ◇ ◇

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's bad, but I'd appreciate any comments about you guys' thoughts, so please feel free to share your opinion if it's actually thought out.


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